Fore
by CIAChick
Summary: Dunder Mifflin holds a golf tournament. Jim POV


It's not that you don't like golf. You enjoy it when it involves wasting a day chatting up clients as you take to the links, but when Jan announced the Scranton branch would be there, your stomach dropped down to your toes like **t**he time when you were ten and rode on the fastest roller coaster in the park. Worse yet, not only do you have to play as part of a pair with someone, but according to Jan, you'll be playing against a pair from Scranton.

You try to scrounge up any conversations from your memories where she might have mentioned golf. You had worked so hard to bury those conversations, your jokes at the office, your possible meaningful glances.

You pair up with Gary, who is a step above you in the food chain. He seems like a nice guy—you've talked to him a couple times when everyone from the office went out for drinks—and most importantly this pairing prevents you from being stuck with Lydia, an accountant with brown, curly hair who has been giving you several suggestive glances and hellos since you started.

The day before the tournament, you nervously ask Jan whether she knows the teams for tomorrow. She looks at you strangely for a second, then her face softens as she informs you she's sorry but she doesn't know.

As the sun comes up, you lie awake in bed, getting up before your alarm goes off. You make sure your outfit isn't too wrinkled, trying not to imagine her in a cute golf outfit, complete with a visor and gloves.

When you get out of the car, the first people you see are Stanley and Kevin. They stop to talk to you, allowing you ample time to casually survey the parking lot for her car. Something Kevin mentions brings you back to reality. "Pam and Roy broke up." He repeats again when you tell him you missed something. You try to feign concern: when? Why? About three months before the wedding, Pam never said why.

Three months before the wedding, that would have been six months ago, you figure in your head as you walk to the clubhouse. Why didn't she call? Or email?

"Is she coming?" you find yourself asking. Yep, she and Angela are a team. You spot Angela when you enter, but ignore her discerning gaze, heading for the small buffet first. Michael appears, closely followed by Dwight, and a small part of you misses the relaxed atmosphere of Scranton. New York is much more serious and tense. There corporate is not just a scare tactic, they are the ones looking over your shoulder.

You feel her presence before you see her and as you turn away from one of Michael's stupid jokes, you see her across the room, laughing and smiling as she talks to Ryan, Jan, and Angela. Dwight and Michael are still goofing off, but you've stopped to watch her. Finally, she glances over at you and gives you a small smile and wave. Your heart seizes up in your chest and for a moment you forget to breathe. All the nervousness you had buried beneath the surface reappears and you shove your hands in your pockets as you excuse yourself from Dwight and Michael. Jan chooses that time to invite everyone to finish up their food and head out to the course. You glance back at where she was standing, but she's disappeared into the crowd.

As you are heading out to the course, you suddenly find her beside you. "Hey, I hear we're playing you."

"I guess so," you laugh.

You fall into step together, trying to push past the awkwardness and catch up.

"How's everything in New York?"

"It's okay. It's more fast-paced. I kind of miss Scranton sometimes. How are things with you?"

"About the same," she shrugs.

"How's Roy?" you ask, even though you know the answer. A part of you wants to hear her admit it.

"Oh," her face drops and she looks down at the ground. "We broke up. A few months ago."

You want to ask her why. You want to know if it had anything to do with you—with you and her, but you can't ask, instead saying: "Oh, sorry. I didn't know." You both fall quiet for a minute and then Gary comes over, saying he's got the cart ready.

"See you in a minute," Pam waves, walking towards where Angela is waiting.

"Yeah, see you on the greens, Beesly," you tease and she turns, laughing at your old nickname. You feel that familiar jolt, your heart starts to pound faster in your chest, and you realize that all those feelings you thought you left in Scranton haven't disappeared at all.

Gary asks you out on the drive to the first hole who the girl was. "What?" you ask, not really hearing him the first time.

"Who's that girl you were chatting up? Pretty slick, Halpert."

"Oh no, it's not like that. We knew each other before. She works in the Scranton office."

"Taken?"

"She has a boyfriend, yeah," you lie, hoping Gary will take your word for it and not find out otherwise from anyone else.

"She seemed to like you, though."

You shrug. "We were pretty good friends once."

"Angela is a much better player than me. I can't drive the ball longer than 150 yards," she confesses to you as you stand around on the third hole, watching Gary and Angela negotiate which way the wind is blowing.

"I definitely am not as serious as Gary about it. I have a feeling we're going to be embarrassed."

"Speak for yourself, Halpert, I've got some mad putting skills."

"Oh really?" you ask, your eyebrows raising. "I'll believe it when I see it."

She laughs. "You asked for it." Sighing, she grabs your wrist and looks at your watch. Her warm fingers press into your skin and for a minute you can't breathe. "Do you think we could convince them to stop after the first nine? At this rate, we're going to be here all day," she moans, gesturing towards Gary and Angela, who are still debating the best technique for the hole.

"I'm definitely tempted to sneak back to the clubhouse." You stifle a yawn.

"Tee time too early for you?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.

"A little."

"You have to head back to New York tonight," she states, not really a question.

You shake your head, averting your eyes away. "No, I've got a room here for the night. I might take a couple days off, go visit the 'rents."

Her face is unreadable as she says: "That sounds nice."

"How's your mom?" You figure that's a safe subject. Pam loves her mom.

Pam shakes her head. "I haven't really seen her since Roy and I broke up. She came down for a week or so, then."

"So does Roy still work in Scranton?" Pam doesn't answer for a minute. "Sorry if this is…awkward. I didn't mean to--"

"No, it's fine," she shakes her head, folding her arms to her chest. "He, um, quit."

Angela and Gary are finally finished and you climb into the cart. "I'll drive. Get in, Beesly."

She slides in next to you, her foot bouncing nervously as you traverse the green down to the hole. "I really miss you. I mean, I miss you at the office," she says suddenly and you have to swerve to miss running into a tree.

"Pam, I…"

"No, let me finish. I think I really—I think I was wrong, what I said, back in the spring. I'm sorry if I hurt you." You hear her sniffle and you look over, realize she's crying. "I didn't want you to leave."

"Oh, Pam," you whisper. Your hand seems to float down to her knee, giving it a squeeze. You circle the green, waving to Angela and Gary. "You finish up the hole, we need to run to the clubhouse real quick." When Gary gives you a funny look, you point to yourself. "Bathroom."

As you drive away, you hear Pam snicker in between her sniffles. "Thanks for covering for me," she chokes out.

"No problem." You manage, swallowing, not sure what to say. You pull up to the front of the clubhouse but neither of you moves. Pam is still sniffling and you reach into your bag, pulling out a small towel and hand it to her. "I promise it's clean."

She nods, dabbing at her face with it. She rests against your arm and when you move it out around her shouldersshe shifts closer to you, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I miss you, too," you finally murmur.

"So what are we going to do?" she asks.

"Get out of here?" you suggest and even though you can only see part of her face, you notice her cheek perk up, the dimple appearing and you know she's smiling.

"Too obvious." She's right, you realize, but you can't bear to go back and play 14 holes of golf without knowing where you and Pam stand.

"Spend the day with me tomorrow."

She looks up at you, surprised. "What about your parents?"

"I'll say I have to go back early and meet them for breakfast. Come on, I can't stand the thought of us leaving and not having talked."

"Well," she bites her lip, unsure. "Okay. I guess I can do that."

"Great," you feel yourself grin. "Now what about those mad putting skills?" She laughs, elbowing you in the ribs as you drive back to the greens.

At the end of the day, you're just edging out Pam—86 to 90 when she hits a magnificent drive. "Holy crap, Beesly, where did that come from?"

Pam is frozen in shock, her driver still in her hand until she sees the ball land less than a hundred yards from the pin. She lets out a squeal, doing a cute little jump in the air. Her green eyes are wide and you give her a high five.

You don't know if you're more distracted by the thought of spending all day with Pam tomorrow or still happy over her great drive, but you bogey the last hole. Final tally: 90 to 92.

"Close call, Halpert," she says softly as you shake hands. Neither Angela or Gary look too happy with the outcome, but you don't care.

Pam follows you out to your car when you slip away to put up your clubs. "I thought you were leaving without saying goodbye," she shrugs in her defense.

"Are you kidding?" You grin and envelop her in a hug. Your hand brushes through her hair and her curls are soft like you always thought they'd be. You're a good foot taller than her and her nose presses into your shoulder as she steps closer. She giggles and you can feel her hot breath through your shirt. She smells like vanilla and lavender and sweetly of sweat. "I'll see you tomorrow," you finally murmur.

"Yeah, tomorrow," she replies, lacing her fingers through yours. "Noon."

She tips her head back to look at you. You want to kiss her so badly then, but instead you swallow and say: "Tomorrow, Beesly."

"See you then, Halpert." She whispers as you let her hands slide out from yours. You lean against your car and watch her walk back to the clubhouse. Halfway there, she turns, giving you a wave, before you open the door and slip into your rental car.

Tomorrow. You like the sound of that. Its full of possibilities.

_fin_


End file.
